Page 44 of Lethal Seduction

I hug him. “Thank you for being so sweet. Can I call you soon?”

“You’d better,” Patrick says, but his eyes look sad to me. Almost like he doesn’t believe we’ll ever get this moment back.

Throwing my clothes on, I rush for the front door, turning back before I close it behind me. Patrick stands there in the hallway, naked from the waist down, the saddest expression etched across his face.

“I promise to call you soon,” I say and close the door.

This job has always treated me well, but at this very moment, I want to punch something.

19

PATRICK

The following day, I plan to meet Tina at the shooting range. We’re both a little freaked out about the recent murders and my apartment break-in. As I walk toward the shooting range, I can hear the thump, thump, thump of arrows hitting their targets and people hollering in excitement.

The late morning air is warm but dry. Thankfully, I won’t work up too much of a sweat, if I can help it. Where the hell is Tina? I stop and look around. She isn’t at our usual lane, nor is she at the concession stand. Reaching for my phone, I check the messages. Nothing from her saying she changed plans. I send a text asking where she is, but I don’t get the usual immediate response.

Hoping for the best, I go to our lane and begin setting up. Placing my bag on the chair next to me, I take out my target practice shoes, glove, wrist guard, and polarized sunglasses. Once everything is in place, I spray on some sunblock and check my phone. Still nothing from Tina.

My heart pitter-patters with nervous energy, or maybe it’s the quad shot of espresso I downed in the car on the way to the archery shooting lanes. Either way, I’m feeling nervous as helland start contemplating calling her—something we usually don’t do before noon.

Continuing to scan my surroundings, something catches my attention in the tree-line behind the concession stand. Is that Tina? Squinting, I crane my neck trying to get a better look. Someone in a bright pink shirt and white shorts is leaning against a tree. What are they doing?

I stand and march in their direction. The figure comes into perfect view, and I gasp, slapping my hand over my mouth and clutching my imaginary pearls. There she stands, leaning against a tree, Jake Bloom pressing up against her. Their faces are smashed into one mess of lips and slobber. Jake’s hand is down the front of her shorts. I could turn away. I could pretend I haven’t witnessed my friend winning our little bet—the one I’d pretty much given up on once I met Michael. But that isn’t my, or Tina’s, style.

“Tina Marie Conchita Brokaw, you slut!”

Jake’s hand pulls out of her shorts so fast I’m concerned he’s given her vagina a rub burn. He steps back from her, his expression one of shock and embarrassment.

Tina turns toward me and wipes her chin dry. The smirk on her face says it all; I win. I can’t help but smile. The look we exchange is our own private message. I’m happy for her, and she’s proud of herself. Definitely a win-win.

“Oh, my,” Tina says, buttoning her shorts and feigning embarrassment. “I’m so… sorry you had to see that, Patrick.”

“Um, hey Patrick,” Jake says as he steps out of the trees.

I can see I’ve interrupted more than a make-out session. His pants are tight in the crotch, the outline of his thick cock visible even through his jeans.

“Am I interrupting something?” I ask, my voice purposely dripping with sarcasm.

Jake shakes his head. “Not at all, man.” He turns back to Tina and then looks away quickly. “I’d better get going.” He rushes past me, and I watch him for a few seconds, his bubble butt looking so good in those jeans.

“Damn, Tina. I’m so sorry I fucked that up.”

She saunters toward me with a smile on her face. “Don’t be. He’s one hell of a kisser, but I’m not sure I would have gone all the way with him.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Something about him seems off. Maybe it’s because I haven’t been laid in a really long time, but I didn’t want it to be him.”

“Fair,” I say. “But for the record… you won the bet.”

She pumps her fist. “Damn straight I did, bestie.”

We hug, and I kiss her on the cheek.

“Grab my bag for me?” she asks, pointing toward the trees.

I catch sight of the red pack that holds her equipment and hurry over to get it for her. We then walk together arm-in-arm back toward the shooting lane where my bags hold our spot.

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